Fade
by MoJo-TsuneniToEien
Summary: Dark red liquid and revolting bits of untraceable gore seeped past his gums and flowed through his jagged, razor-sharp teeth. Bloody vapor collected into droplets, chilled and trickled torturously down the Italian's back— "Stop it! Stop it! FUCK, get out of my head!"


**Chapter 1: Arrival**

Romano had arrived late in the morning. The yellow sun had approached its peak and the clouds were white wisps of cotton balls that had been spread apart and hung across sky. Rain was on its way.

_Welcome to Madrid,_ he thought reluctantly as the black Ferrari slowed to a stop in front of the Spanish country manor: his childhood home.

The distant *thunk* of a car door broke the tranquil air of the Spainard, and he hummed curiously.

_I wasn't expecting any visitors..._ he racked the internal office of his brain for an explanation as he removed his gardening gear and made his way to the front door. He turned the golden knob and stood framed against the doorway, for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the light... well, rather, that's what he _would_ have done, had a young man not been blocking the sun.

"Romano? What are you doing here?"

Ah, "what" indeed. Well, it all started at 5:00AM just this morning Ludwig stood outside the Italy brother's house with his normally slick hair jutting wildly every which way. He was sick; his country was in famine. Money had no value and was used for blocks by children on the streets. His boss didn't know what to do—he didn't _have _a boss anymore; it was all on him.

Romano was the one to open the door (he was already awake, after all.) Disdain, Romano observed, sparked into his eyes, but left as quickly as it had come; there was no Veneziano around to save him if he received the cold shoulder, but Romano agreed to hear the German's pleas and even offered him a seat on the couch inside where it was warmer.

Confusion crossed his features and, though not having verbally questioned the man, Romano explained:

"It's because I finally have an excuse to leave this damn house."

He rose from his seat, and brought back two tomatoes from the kitchen.

"Take one."

Germany had.

All this Romano summed into the answer of Spain's question:

"Feli's boyfriend is crashing at our place."

_And I've been crying myself to sleep for the past three months._

"Okay!" Taken aback by the Spainard's outburst he hesitated a moment waiting for him to say something else. He had to clear his throat before it came:

"Is that all the luggage you brought?"

"Are you still a medium?"

Antonio giggled and responded, "Si," before he started walking Romano up the stairs and to his room—third door on the left.

They reached the door; Romano turned the knob and Spain was behind him the entire time, smiling.

Since Italy had gained its independence Spain and Romano had put equal effort into seeing each other as often as possible, therefore, on top of already having once lived together, it was expected that he practice the habit of squinting his eyes when entering any of the rooms; the mother-fucking sun shone right into his face every single time.

"I'll go make some lunch while you get settled in."

...

_Isn't this why we left in the first place?_

An innocent question from the monster.

"No it was to get away from _you._" He spat, tossing the suitcase on his bed.

His mind quieted, though Romano could feel the negativity stirring—for a moment—but it subsided. He managed to quell his depression this time, but it was still there growing quietly... Not like he needed the reminder.

As he unpacked he went through his regular list of shit-to-bring-to-Spain's:

two pairs of jeans one black one blue, two button-ups (both long sleeved) fire brick and pale blue, socks, boxers, and a tooth brush.

_And—_

No, no he wouldn't think about _that_ right now, albeit having been staring at the tool for the past five seconds.

_He'd heard of "cutting" before but had never considered the idea, until..._

"Put the knife down, Romano," he told himself cautiously.

He did.

His stomach growled, so Romano decided that it was time to go down and see what Spain had made for lunch.

ooo

Spain decided to take the rest of the day off, and for that time the two chatted in front of the TV as Spanish music played low to fill the room's occassoinal silences. Not once did the topic of Romano's leave come up, and for that the latter was thankful.

EOC

[Author's Note: I'm not sure how to write this, but I'll give it a shot!

Hi, I'm MoJo-TsuneniToEien, but you can just refer to me as "MoJo," please. Well, this is my first fanfiction and let me tell you, it gets crazy. I had a lot of fun writing it and I'm still working on other chapters, but expect things to intensify greatly and suddenly, perhaps, as the story progresses. I love constructive critiscism! Please write me long reviews and ask as many questions as you wish! (^^) You can favorite, follow, or whatever! But reviews are the best way to show your appreciation.

The reason this chapter is so short is simply because it's an introduction. The next chapter just happens to be the one I have worked on the least, though it and all the chapters from here on out are going to be_ much_ longer and some will even be split into two or more parts. Therefore it's going to take me a while to get it up, but I'll have you know that I am NOT a quitter.

Reader, I'd really like it if you'd give me a chance_—_I _deserve_ a chance... So, come with me, and I'll take you to a world of brilliance, pain, romance, struggle, and desperation.

Won't you take my hand...?]


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